The Eleven Cubit Spear
by wickbook
Summary: This story follows the voyage of Patrokles and Achilleus on their way to Troy, and then the siege of the city. Where will their relationship lead them?


The salty waves broke against the prow of the ship. It had been two weeks since the black ship had left Greek shores, bound for Troy. Patrokles looked out across the water and breathed the sea-air. It seemed like they would never reach Troy. Aggnememnon had assured him, along with the other Greek soldiers, that it would be an easy victory and that they would be home again before harvest time. Patrokles closed his eyes and remembered the swaying of the bronze grasses and the dark thick juice of the grapes. He was going to war. Would he never see such things again?  
"We'll be there before long." Patrokles jumped. He had not heard Achilleus approach him from behind, and it took him by surprise. "If you let your guard down like that not even I will be able to protect you," continued his younger, yet already legendary, cousin. Patrokles looked down in shame. Even after all of the long hours they had spent training, he still did not feel confidant that he would survive the coming battle.  
He looked up again. "I'll get better. Once we arrive, I'll bring the justice of the gods to the Trojans, mark my words."  
Achilleus gave Patrokles a hard look. After several seconds of silence, he almost whispered, "Don't be so quick to jump to the king's defense. Fight for the people around you, the myrmadons. Fight for me. We are the only ones you can depend on."  
"Who do you fight for?" Patrokles did not know why he asked. Achilleus started, then locked eyes with Patrokles for a moment before looking back out into the distance, into the sea, into the future. Almost a minute passed.  
"Storm's coming!" Achilleus suddenly yelled. There were dark clouds on the horizon, getting bigger by the second. "All men to their stations!"  
The myrmadons began to move as one. They furled the sails and prepared for impact. Patrokles saw the men on the other ships in the fleet shouting and doing the same.  
Then, with godly speed, it was upon them. The first wall of wind almost hurled him off the ship. The waves bucked and the ship rolled. Men were pulling at ropes and shouting. Lightning flashed. An impossibly tall wave reared up and threw itself at the fleet. A huge shark, tugged up from the dark depths of Hades itself, was flung onto the deck next to Patrokles and thrashed, splintering both wood and man. Its gigantic tail clipped Patrokles and sent him spinning through the air, towards the edge of the ship. He went over, but was able to catch the slippery edge. He could barely hold on.  
"Achilleus, help me!", he screamed as his hold slipped another precious cubit. His cry was drowned by thunder.  
Time seemed to slow down. Achilleus was midair, jumping the shark with spear in hand. Jabbing the weapon down into the shark's brain, he pole-vaulted towards Patrokles. Dark lifeblood spurted from the colossal beast and mixed with the pouring rain as Achilleus' hand streched out towards Patrokles. It was not fast enough. Patrokles slipped down into the dark turbid waters, and all was black.

Heat. Warmth. A softness on his mouth.  
"GRAGHTHH!" Patrokles bolted upright and briney water poured from his lungs onto the sand. He sat there, panting.  
"There we go. Thought I'd lost you."  
Patrokles looked up. A figure was kneeling in the sand next to him. The sun was directly behind his head and shadows obscured his face.  
They were on a beach. It faded into trees and jungle further up the beach. And there was something... odd. In the air. His mind felt fuzzy, and he couldn't grasp what. The figure shifted, and suddenly Patrokles recognized him. "A... Achilleus? What... what happened?" he managed to sputter.  
"You went over. I dived in after you and managed to pull you back to the surface. It was odd- as soon as we got beyond the edge of the fleet, the sea calmed back down. The stormclouds ended at the last ship." His face darkened. "An ill omen, to be sure. Only the gods could have accomplished that."  
"You could have died." Silence again. "How did we get here?", Patrokles said, looking around.  
"There was an island not to far from where we were. I don't know how we missed it before. I managed to drag us both here. You had swallowed a lot of water, so I had to use a technique taught to me by the Amazons to bring back the drowned."  
Patrokles touched his lips, still warm.  
"Yes," Achilleus answered the unspoken question. "You give them your breath. Now," he said, standing up, "let's see what we can do about getting the fleet back, and getting rescued."  
Patrokles suddenly realized what it was about the air. "There's no wind! And...", he tried to grasp the elusive feeling, moving his hand up and down.  
"Yes. It almost seems to resist, doesn't it?", said Achilleus. "Not much, but for a ship..." he looked darkly out into the distance, his chisled face set. Patrokles understood. It would be almost impossible to sail under these conditions, even with rowers. Posidon was not pleased with the Greeks.

They spent their time training. There was enough game on the island, and they were accomplished enough hunters, that food was not a problem. With no wind and no rain, they needed no shelter, and bedded on piles of leaves. A freshwater spring gave them enough to drink and bathe. As the days went on, Achilleus got more and more restless. The sessions got longer and more intense. Patrokles could barely keep up.  
He broached the subject as they rested in the crystal-clear spring, steam gently rising from their bodies. "What is eating you? You're never here, you seem as though your mind is on Mt. Olympus."  
Achilleus gave him a long, hard look. "I don't like being trapped here, waiting on the actions of others to-" he grimaced "-rescue me. Especially with this air. I don't think anyone will come."  
"I would, if I was in their situation. That's what you taught me, taught all of us. A phalanx moves as one, each man covering his comrade on the left."  
"And if one falls the next moves up to take his place without any delay. They'll regret it, but they will move on to Troy. It is up to us to escape. I am going to swim back to the mainland. I promised to protect you, and will come back with a ship. You are good enough to survive here on your own."  
And he was set. No matter what Patrokles did to plead with him to wait, Achilleus had decided that he would set out the next morning.

Patrokles woke. Helios was riding his chariot the sun as it began to peek above the horizon. Achilleus was already lashing together a crude haversack to carry some hard fruit to eat midsea.  
"And if you die? I sit here until I get old, my grey beard floating in the sea like kelp?"  
"If they come like you say they will, you won't have to worry about that, will you?" Achilleus shot him a look as he busily worked the twine, weaving it with strength and finesse.  
"I don't want to lose you!" Patrokles suddenly shouted with emotion that surprised even him. Achilleus paused for only a moment, looked like he was about to say something, but did not.  
He finished the sack, filled it, and hoisted it over his shoulders. "We all lose everybody in the end. Best get used to that." And then set out for the beach. Patrokles numbly watched him go. He heard Achilleus' feet hit the sand, then the splash as he walked into the sea. Then nothing, just him and the trees. Sitting there.  
Then, the noise began. He was so used to its absence that he at first did not comprehend what it was he was hearing. It wasn't until Patrokles looked up into the sky and saw the leaves, the trees swaying until he comprehended what it meant.  
He lept up, and his feet pounded as he sprinted towards the beach. The wind was back, and he heard the slight tiny beginning of rain.  
The calm before the storm.  
He reached the beach. He saw Achilleus's figure already impossibly far out at sea. He saw Achilleus see what was going on, hesitate, and then begin to push on outwards into the storm.  
"No! No! Stupid, come back!" Patrokles shouted through the rain and tears. He could only watch as he saw the figure go up against the rising waves, submerge, stay underwater for an impossibly long time, and then surface again. Again and again with each rolling wave, Patrokles fell to his knees and cried. Each time Achilleus went under, he did not come up again for a longer time. Each time Patrokles was certain that it was the last.  
Until finally, it was. Minutes passed with no sign of him. Sobs wracked Patrokles's body and he writhed in the sand with despair. He gazed desperately out to sea, for any sign. There was none.  
Then there was. Patrokles gasped as he saw a bit of bronze skin, slightly under the surface at the mouth of the cove. Without thinking, he waded out towards where he saw the flash, pleading to Athena that it was no mirage. He saw the body of Achilleus and seized it. Rythmatically, with the waves, he dragged him back towards the beach. With the strength of Zeus, he managed a final exertion and pulled Achilleus up onto the sand.  
The rain was getting heavier. "Please please please be alive be okay," muttered Patrokles desparately. He put he head to Achilleus's chest. It wasn't moving, he had no breath. "You give them your breath..." Without thinking, Patrokles lowered his lips down to Achilleus' and exhaled. Nothing happened.  
"Breath, dammit!" He pounded on Achilleus's chest, to *make* his lungs work. A little bit of water came up his throat. He did it again, harder. He lowered his lips again and this time it worked. I. will. not. lose. you!, thought Patrokles, and he worked Achilleus, alternating between liplocking and pounding.  
Achilleus coughed, and more water came up. He was breathing, taking shivering mouthfuls of air. "HahaHA you're alive thank Zeus you're alive." Patrokles put his hand on Achilleus's cheek. It was deathly cold, slick with seawater and rain.  
"Oh nonono I will NOT lose you now!" Patrokles picked him up and began to move towards the trees, to shelter. He propped Achilleus up against the trunk of a particularly large one, out of reach of the rain. He was still shivering. "Don't worry, I'll warm you up." He wrapped himself and his robe around the both of them, clutching Achilleus, rubbing him to keep him warm. Achilleus writhed around at first, then clutched back at Patrokles. Rocking him back and forth for what seemed like hours, the shivers subsided. Patrokles gently fell asleep.

It was night when Achilleus shifted and Patrokles awoke with a start. He relaxed when he realized where he was.  
"You saved my life."  
Achilleus was awake, then. "I suppose I did. I used the technique you told me about... the one that the Amazons taught you. I gave you my breath"  
"I still it, then. I don't like having what belongs to others. It makes me indebted to them."  
Patrokles looked down at the face of Achilleus gazing up at him. "Wha-?"  
"Shhh. Let me give it back." Then, before Patrokles realized what was happening, Achilleus's lips were on his. The felt... good. It was right somehow. Achilleus moved on top of Patrokles and wrapped strong arms around him. Their kiss went deeper, and their tounges danced.  
Then, something changed. Achilleus froze, and broke it. "Turn over," he commanded.  
Patrokles knew what this meant. He heard stories, students and teachers... but Achilleus was younger than him! "But-" he stuttered.  
"Just do it." There was a hardness in Achilleus's voice that wasn't there before.  
Patrokles did. It was not over quickly.

The next morning, Patrokles woke up alone. He lie there, staring at the sky. What had happened? What did it mean?  
The smell of smoke wafted through the clearing. He looked around. There was a column of black smoke coming from the beach. He jumped up and, a little stiffly, ran towards it.  
Achilleus was standing in front of a large pile of flaming, smoking plant debris. "Look," he said, pointing, "the black ship of the myrmadons. They see us, and are on their way."  
Patrokles looked out, then back at Achilleus. "About last night-"  
Achilleus didn't meet his gaze, focusing on tending the signal fire. "You are not to speak about it, or anything else that happened on this island, to anyone else. Understand?"  
"What, why? But-"  
Achilleus whipped around. "You are mine now, cousin. I have claimed you. I am in nobody's debt! I will protect you as my property, and one cannot owe their own property anything. Understand?", he said again, louder.  
Patrokles looked down. "Yes, Achilleus." The myrmadons came back for us because that's what you have taught them, yet you don't follow it yourself, he thought to himself.  
Then he remembered Achilleus's first words, when he had given back the breath, and how right it had felt- at least before the hardness came over him. There was something real there. Patrokles swore to himself that he would find it again, and make Achilleus see it too. He would do anything, no matter the cost.  
"Good." said Achilleus.  
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End file.
